The Light in Your Refrigerator
by PoneeTyme
Summary: Sherlock is caught in a refrigerator accident and consequently loses his big toe.


John Watson had only been awake for three minutes when his day was completely ruined. The minute he heard crashing noises and cries of pain coming from the kitchen, John just knew it was just going to be one of those days.

"Sherlock! Are you alright?" He said already running full speed towards the source of the noise with his heart in his throat. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

John could barely comprehend what he saw. Sherlock was trapped under a refrigerator. He quickly rushed to his friend's side and attempted to push the fridge off of him, it took three or four tries before he could manage it.

"John," Sherlock said weakly, "it was for an experiment." Then he immediately lost consciousness.

John tried to keep himself from panicking and called an ambulance, all of his jam had been crushed in the fall. He contemplated trying to salvage some of it by licking it off of the floor, until a groan from beside him reminded him that his flatmate was still on the floor, dying. Oops. John quickly checked him over for injuries, maybe the blood coming from his foot was a clue. Sherlock's big toe was missing.

"NO!" John cried in his best soap opera voice, as he quickly tried to stop the bleeding. He knew exactly what this meant, Sherlock would need a toe transplant to make it through this alive.

* * *

John's heart pounded as he paced the hallway of the hospital, waiting for any news. The doctor finally walked out of the room and gave him a grave look that could only mean one thing. Sherlock was going to die from toe loss.

"Can I go in and see him?"

"Of course, take all the time you need."

John walked into the room not quite knowing what to expect. Sherlock looked awful, his face was completely drained of all color, and he sort of looked like a refrigerator had hit him, but at least he was conscious.

"Why? Why did you do it Sherlock? Why would you put me through this?" John demanded of him

"I just- I just wanted to know what it looked like inside of the fridge with the door closed. Does the light stay on or does it turn off? I needed to know. It was for an _experiment_, John."

John sighed heavily. "I don't know if we'll be able to find you a toe before..."

"I know, John."

John wept. He wept bitterly. He wept for ages. He wept for his Sherlock. He wept for his jam. But he kept it all inside. That is just what hedgehogs do. John knew exactly what must be done. He had known from the beginning that he had the same toe type as his friend. He liked to think of it as something that made them closer. John wandered around the hospital until he found a knife and did the deed. He put his toe in a cooler labeled "To: Sherlock, Love: John". Then John waited, waited for death's cold hands to close around his woolly jumper.

* * *

When Sherlock finally woke up, he knew something was different. He immediately looked down at his foot.

"John! John! Guess what? They found a toe for me! I shall name him Squishy." Sherlock called towards the door.

There was no answer. Wait, thought Sherlock, didn't he recognize this toe? How many times had he seen this hobbit-like toe kicking him in the face? NO. It couldn't be.

"JOHN! JOHN!? Please answer me!"

He knew the truth without anyone telling him. John was exactly Sherlock's toe type and he had taken the loss of his jam very hard. Wait, maybe there was still something he could do...Maybe John was still alive somewhere. Sherlock got up and started running around the hospital looking for John, hoping the new toe was up to the task. When Sherlock found him he was relieved to see him alive. John was being supervised by several doctors, but his health was fading quickly.

"NO." said Sherlock.

And everyone in the hospital fell to their knees in submission. Sherlock was not a happy camper, and that meant no one was a happy camper. He stormed out of the hospital in search of the perfect toe match for John, and he didn't care who he had to separate from their toe to save his friend. He ran through the streets like a madman, grabbing people's feet and inspecting their toes, but no one was a match. Just as he was about to give up hope on finding a toe, he realized with horror, he knew a match, he knew a **perfect** match...

Anderson.

Sherlock shuddered and realized what he had to do.

* * *

Sherlock rang the doorbell impatiently. When Anderson answered the door and saw who it was, he was not a happy camper. Except no one cares when Anderson isn't a happy camper. He tried to slam the door in Sherlock's face, but Sherlock used his brand new toe to stop the door. He shoved the door back with force and walked in. Anderson was clad in only dinosaur boxers and crocs, an easy target.

"What do you think you're doing you-"

Sherlock backhanded Anderson so hard he flew across the room.

"SURRENDER YOUR TOE."

Sherlock did not waste any time in ripping off Anderson's crocs and severing his toe. He put it in his pocket for safekeeping. This plan was perfect, no one would notice that Anderson was gone.

Sherlock got back to the hospital just in the nick of time. John was fading quickly when he got there. The doctors were at a point where they didn't care too much about where the toe came from, and they attached it with no questions asked. John started to recover more quickly than anyone could have hoped, Sherlock was already buying balloons for his welcome home party. A day or two later, he started on a steep downward spiral. He became extremely ill, and the doctors decided it must be a negative reaction to the new toe, the previous owner may have had some type of disorder that was now passing on to John. Sherlock immediately knew it was the disease called "stupidity". It had destroyed entire villages, broken families apart, and was the number one cause of death in the universe.

"Anderson." Sherlock spat, then rushed to John and violently shook his shoulders "Listen to me John, if you start feeling like your brain cells are dying and you need to say something idiotic, call for me and I will put you out of your misery"

"You're pretty, can I touch your butt?" was all John could manage in his drug induced haze.

Sherlock just gave his head a few gentle pats and said, "I will find a way to save you John, even if it takes an effort."

"Good news everyone!" The doctor said as he burst unexpectedly into the room, "Someone named Bilbo from New Zealand died a while ago and his toe is a perfect match for John's. We just got it in today."

The hairy toe was attached as quickly as possible, and the doctors went out to party hard.

"John. John. John. John." Sherlock said as he repeatedly booped John's nose.

"Shut up Sherlock."

"I'm sorry, John. I mean- for everything. I'll let you touch my butt to make up for it..."

"It's okay Sherlock. I'm your refrigerator light."

"What? John, are you alright? Do you still have the Anderson?! I'll go get a knife and I'll end it quickly."

"No Sherlock, I just mean that when you open the door, I will always be there for you."

Sherlock gasped at these words, and a single tear fell from his eye to the ground and its acidic properties burned a heart shape in the floor.

"I have a present for you John," Sherlock said as he held out a brand new jar of jam "I found it in Anderson's fridge."

John immediately devoured the jam and gave Sherlock a big hug.

"I love you Jawn."

"I love you too, Sherlawk."


End file.
